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For Death and Mourning...
There was so much white today. When she stepped out the door, Tara had to narrow her eyes against the dirty white light shining through the clouds. It wasn't particularly bright outside, but it had been particularly dark inside the Institute, and the sudden if feeble light filtering past the clouds had felt like a hammer against the backs of her eyes. When she got used to it, Tara opened her eyes fully to look at the front lawn. It had snowed last night, a new layer to cover yesterday's brown mess. The branches of the trees seemed to be peeking under the weight of the white fluff just as Tara sometimes did when her mother put her hat on over her eyes. Tara heard the door open, and looked back to see her big sister in the doorway. Dee was dressed in white robes, and her expression was admonishing as she closed the door. "What are you doing out here?" Dee asked, making her voice even like a grown-up's and standing her straightest because, though she was four years older that Tara, her height didn't show it. "It's cold." It was cold, but so far it hadn't occurred to Tara to care. Seeing Dee's lips tremble made a responding shiver shoot up Tara's spine, and then her teeth began to chatter. Stupid Dee. Stupid winter. Stupid cold. Dee's frozen blue eyes softened in the slightest. "I know you're sad. Everyone is. Imagine what Mom and Dad are feeling? Cole's parents were their best friends." "What about Cole?" Dee's mouth turned down in the corners, and her eyes filled with an emotion that Tara wasn't used to seeing. It seemed to be... pity. "I'm... sure he's the saddest of us all," Dee said, and even Tara had to admit she sounded very mature. Tara scowled. She didn't need her sister's help to know how her best friend was feeling. "I meant, where is he going to go?" She knew that orphaned children went to Idris, the homeland of Shadowhunters, but she didn't want Cole to go. Her father had shown her Idris on a globe, and it was across an ocean, somewhere near France. Much too far from Canada. "I think he's going to stay with us," Dee said, and Tara felt a little better. Dee held out her hand, and Tara could see the black Voyance rune on her wrist. The thick black lines, resembling an eye, stood out on her pale skin. The night before she'd gotten it, she'd snuck into Tara's room and told her about how, after she got her first rune, she'd be able to train in the training room, the same as their parents. The next day, the ceremony had been completed while Tara was at Cole's house, and ever since Dee had been too busy with knives and maces to play with anyone. Now, her hand was held out in kindness. "Come," she said. "It's warm inside." Tara looked back at the Institute, her gaze passing easily over the mahogany door and rough grey stones that made up the walls. She'd sometimes thought that her house looked a bit like a castle, the big and strong kind that people threw fireballs at but could never get into. She'd always felt safe in the Institute. Never had those firm gray walls been so pale, so cold and uninviting. She turned away and shook her head, looking out to the trees and snow again. It may be cold outside, but no matter what Dee said, it was colder inside. The Institute was filled with what Tara had begun to call the 'white feeling'. The white feeling felt like a cold stone sitting in the bottom of your stomach, felt like the hooded gaze of a Silent Brother on your back. The front door creaked again, and both sisters turned around. Their mother was surprised to see them, outside in December and without coats. "What are you girls doing out here?" she asked, but she lacked the usual vigor. She looked tired. "I've been looking all over for you. Tara, you need to get dressed, we're leaving in fifteen minutes." Tara followed Dee into the house, and their mother closed the door. "I've set your clothes out on your bed," Tara heard her say. She nodded, and continued to make her way up the stairs. Tara had only seen a Silent Brother for the first time in her life two days ago, and she remembered his pale, eyeless face and the way he could talk inside everyone's heads even with his mouth sewn shut. She'd gasped when she'd first seen him come into the house, but her father had pulled her aside and told her that, even though Silent Brothers looked scary, they were good. "Cole is sleeping over at our house because Uncle Charlie and Auntie Lizzy are hurt," her father had explained, and she'd had to hold back an impatient, 'I know'. Did her father think she didn't know something was wrong? Did he think Cole hadn't told her about how his parents had been hurt while fighting demons? Or that she hadn't heard the moaning when she'd passed the infirmary? He continued, "The Silent Brother is very smart, and he knows how to make them better." So the Silent Brother had been allowed into the infirmary, and Tara had stayed with Cole in the hallway until the door had reopened. When it did, she stood up nearly as fast as he did, but it was only the Silent Brother who emerged. He seemed to float down the hallway; his feet were soundless on the floor. She kept waiting for him to say something in her head like he had when he'd come in, but he was completely silent as he'd made his way down the hallway and around the corner. And then, as soon as he vanished from sight, the white feeling came. Tara's mother stepped out of the room and she was pale, as if the Silent Brother had given her some of his pallor. She was walking stiffly in a way that reminded Tara a bit of those people who walk on stilts, and didn't even seem to feel her husband's arm around her. When Tara's father finally looked at her, she knew. His eyes were hard like ice, but calm as a blue sky on a warm summer day, the perfect combination whenever anyone needed strength or comfort. But nothing could have made her feel better then. The white feeling had swallowed everything, covered it all like fine, white dust. Tara felt something rubbing her leg, and nearly fell down the stairs in her shock. Deep in her thoughts, she hadn't seen Magdalene coming down to meet her. She bent to pet the cat, and decided to pick her up and carry her to her room. Magdalene didn't wriggle like some cats might have; she was more comfortable in a child's arms than anywhere else, or so Cole's mom liked to say- Tara gasped. Cole's mom was gone, but she was still thinking of her as if she were alive. She shook her head to clear it, and her messy brown hair brushed against her cheeks. Magdalene had been part of Cole's family even longer than he had, and when Cole had been brought to the Institute after his parents had been injured, he'd brought Magdalene with him. It had only been two days, but the cat had made herself at home. Magdalene's vibrating purr in Tara's ear was comforting as she carried her along. When she got to her room, Tara put Magdalene down and changed into the white dress her mother had put out for her. She managed to zip the zipper, though she got her hair stuck once, and when she was done, she sat down on her bed, and stroked the cat. Next to her bed was a small bookshelf with all her favorite stories, as well as the ones Dee had parted with in her mission to grow up. Tara thought about the children's rhyme she'd been taught way back when she was little. Black for hunting through the night. '' ''For death and mourning, the color's white. '' ''Gold for a bride in her wedding gown, '' ''And red to call enchantment down. '' She gave Magdalene a good scratch on the ears and then got up. She had to be downstairs soon or they would be late to the funeral. * She'd never seen Cole in white before. She'd seen him in jeans and shorts, in a t-shirt or even bare chested while they were swimming, but she'd never seen him wearing all white. All throughout the ceremony, he was silent. He didn't say a word when he saw the dead faces of his mom and dad, even when people in the group could be heard sniffing into their handkerchiefs. He just nodded whenever one of the grown-ups said they were sorry or that they'd loved his parents too. Tara held his hand the whole time, wanting to yell at them for him, because there was no point in saying sorry when there was nothing to be sorry for, and how dare they talk about their love for his parents in past tense when Uncle Charlie and Aunty Liz's bodies were lying in matching coffins ten feet away? When everyone quieted down to listen to the man who had begun to talk, Cole bent his head and he didn't make a peep. It was only after her parents had said goodbye to his and almost everyone had left that Tara looked at his face and saw the tears flowing down his cheeks as if they would never stop. * "Can I go to my house?" Cole's voice broke the silence in the car on the drive back. Tara saw her mother look at him in the rear view mirror. "Nicholas..." her mother said hesitantly. There was that look again. Pity. "You know you can't..." "I only want to see it," he said, and she nodded. Tara could almost hear him saying it: ''One last time. When they got there, everyone went into the house, but only Tara went with Cole to look at the rest of the rooms. Tara found herself hoping that they would turn a corner and suddenly his mom would be there, smiling and ready to make them a snack, or his dad would be reading with his glasses halfway down his nose- but that was never going to happen again. It hurt. Tara looked at Cole's face, wondering if he felt the same, but he looked focused, not sad. All he seemed to want to do was look around. He brushed his fingers over the place in the wall where the paint had chipped. He leaned on a particular stair to hear it creak. After a few minutes alone with him and the silence, Tara began to feel the emptiness of the house. Everything was there; the old rocking chair in the corner that she'd rocked too far and fallen off of when she was six, the familiar yellow curtains that had always made the kitchen shine golden in the morning. Tara had spent a lot of time with Cole, especially after Dee had become so busy training, and his home was as familiar to her as her own. But the house was too big now that it was so empty. The heat was working, so it was warm, and the lights switched on, but instead of comforting, it felt like the house was making a joke of everything that had happened. When she heard her mother call her name, Tara all but ran out of Cole's parent's bedroom. "Yeah?" she called down to the living room from the top of the stairs. "Is Cole okay? You're really quiet up there." Her mother appeared at the base of the stairway. Tara nodded. "Bring him and come on down, then. We should go." Tara went to go get Cole. When she got back to the room he was in, she saw the door had been closed. Not wanting to be rude, she knocked, but there was only silence. Then, she heard a crash. It sounded like breaking glass or china. "Cole?" Tara called. "Cole, are you okay?" Her heart was speeding up, and her voice had become panicked. She had a feeling in her stomach that she'd never felt before, and her skin felt as if ants were crawling up it. The only thing she knew was that something bad was near. When she heard a yell, she opened the door, knowing that Cole was hurt. When she saw what was in the room with him, she screamed. It was a disgusting thing, a creature that looked like a salamander, but had a blue membrane for skin. Through it, she could see its bones and veins. It had a newt's tail, and six arms-three on each side, all wrapped around Cole. When it saw her, it took Cole's arm in its mouth and bit down hard, and Tara heard a snap as her friend's arm broke between the demon's jaws. Cole gasped, his eyes widening in pain before fluttering closed. Fear spiked Tara's blood, making her heart beat quicken. She could feel her heart's violent tattoo against her ribcage, feeding her veins with blood, her muscles with oxygen, spreading the adrenalin. Her fingers fumbled blindly and found a short object with a point-a pen-and she dug it into the demon's back. Its skin seemed to be covered in a thin layer of mucus, which felt gooey like syrup and stuck to her fingers. She pushed the pen in deeper, until she could see it crushing the row of bones trailing down the demon's back. Its spine. It shrieked, a sound like metal being twisted beyond recognition, and then it slithered off Cole and out the open window, the pen still wedged in it's back like a messed-up spike. When her parents and sister ran in a moment later, Tara was crouched over Cole, screaming at him to wake up, screaming for help. His skin and lips were white, and his eyes were closed. From there, he was carried off to the Institute and no time was wasted in summoning every Warlock in the area, and any Silent Brother that would come. Her parents were taking no chances this time. He lived, but it was a close thing. When the demon had bit him, it had not only broken his arm, but poisoned him. It was pure luck that Tara had grabbed the pen she had, because it had been not filled with ink, but with venom. Had the demon not been weakened, Tara's fate would have fallen with Cole's, but she'd saved them both. However, Tara would never forget the white ash of Cole's skin, almost the same colour of the snow under him as he was carried to the car. She would remember for years how it felt, wearing white but covered in red. And she would hate that suit he'd worn to the funeral, hate it with everything in her until the day she ripped it up and watched it burn, only to see that the ashes it left were white too, like everything else. There had been so much white that day.